


it hides in plain sight.

by gavinsaleks (ohmaggies)



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fake Chop, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:52:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmaggies/pseuds/gavinsaleks
Summary: Brett yells out another warning, then that they're back at base, and neither times does Aleks try to move. He stays close, so much so that Trevor can feel the warmth of his breath and the heat of their bodies in such close proximity, Aleks’ hands tangled in the front of Trevor's shirt to keep himself upright..post heist boys in love.





	it hides in plain sight.

**Author's Note:**

> title is a bastardized version of a line from a sarah manguso poem! some of her work is amazing and there were a few particular lines that really laid the grounds for this fic so i recommend her x10!!!
> 
> sidenote: i finished this literally an hour before i found out trev announced he was leaving and wasn't going to post it but... it's been sitting here and we're always starved of aleks/trev content so i hope you enjoy this regardless of recent news & events. i'm going to miss trevor but i'm glad he's doing what's going to make him happy!
> 
> as always, tumblr is @gavinsaleks !
> 
> \- rachel.

 

 

 

> _“I love you as dead people love—in every way imaginable.”_

Sarah Manguso.

 

.

 

“We did it,” someone yells, words drowned out by outside influences, and the steady squeak of the car's tires against the pavement as they turn a corner.

The movement throws Trevor about, a hand splayed out on the wall of the van next to Aleks’ head to keep himself steady. Aleks leans close, as if they've done this a billion times before, and his face presses to Trevor's collarbone with the biggest smile on it that Trevor has ever seen. Because, they really did do it and this means something; means people will know their name now, means that police will probably go looking for them but it doesn't matter. It doesn't, not when they have each other.

After all these years, Trevor remains surprised that this city is still standing. It’s a cesspit of destruction, really, and he laughs as Aleks moves to shakes the dust from Trevor's hair, the taste of victory fresh in their mouths. They live like this, like their fingers are permanently glued to the trigger of their guns, as if there isn’t much else for them to do. The stealing, the killing, the making a mess because they can; the only thing louder than the sirens and the explosions in the distance is Aleks’ laughter pressed close to his ear.

“Corner!” Brett warns, and Trevor steadies himself for the impact of the sharp turn.

Aleks doesn't, curiosity in his gaze before the van lurches to the side and he falls further into Trevor. He laughs, a stifled sound that makes Trevor fall further in love with him, his arm moving to secure itself around Aleks to hold him where he is. Where he is happens to be with his face in Trevor's neck, his cheek to Trevor's shoulder, and his legs slotted between Trevor's as they sit awkwardly across from each other on the shitty chairs in the back.

Brett yells out another warning, then that they're back at base, and neither times does Aleks try to move. He stays close, so much so that Trevor can feel the warmth of his breath and the heat of their bodies in such close proximity, Aleks’ hands tangled in the front of Trevor's shirt to keep himself upright. He doesn't need to, not with Trevor holding onto him, but they're slick with gunpowder and concrete and other people's blood, so grabbing tight and getting a good grip is harder than it needs to be. It doesn't stop Aleks, fingers bunched in the fabric of Trevor's shirt. And it doesn't stop Trevor, his arm like a belt holding Aleks to where he is cuddled into Trevor.

Post heists are not always like this- sometimes there is mourning, or regret, or Trevor just wanting to go home and sleep this off. This time, he's content with celebration, and with Aleks against him fitting so well into the spaces of Trevor's body that it's as if he was made for them. He could've been; Trevor won't deny that he's not an expert at love, but this is the closest to it that he has ever been and Aleks is perfect. He's perfect, the way they easily slid together like this and made no attempt to separate or move, and the way he is forever there when Trevor needs him.

They don't have to say it but they know, probably. Trevor can't speak for Aleks but you'd have to be the most oblivious person in the world to do this and not know that it means Trevor wants it, and _this_ , and every part of Aleks that he is willing to offer. It feels a bit like throwing himself to the masses, loving Aleks, but their lives have never exactly been their own, and in between the thousand past mistakes and their blood on each other’s hands, they can rest comfortably. They won’t look at the police report when it’s released so Trevor will sit on the balcony instead watching the sun bathe the tops of the skyscrapers gold and Aleks will sit beside him, eyes bloodshot and hair messied but his hand sliding into Trevor’s warm enough to make up for the cold of the day.

Brett turns the car off, Trevor able to catch a peak of his hat as he walks around the side of the van, tiredly pulling open the back doors. He doesn’t say anything, not about Aleks close or Trevor practically one-armed hugging him, but he gives a knowing look and offers Trevor a smile that brightens his whole face, so genuine it almost hurts to look at. When he disappears from view, supposedly inside their warehouse, Aleks yawns into Trevor before moving away, the hands holding onto Trevor loosening but not disappearing.

His bleached hair is in need of a cut and half obscuring his eyes from view, his face pale and his cheeks warm, and Trevor wonders if this is what love really feels like; messy hair and dark eyes, the hollowed out yet full sensation stretching through him everywhere like he’s being touched by the sun. Like all those buildings burning yellow at sunset, and the sudden epiphany of wondering what Aleks’ fingers would feel like brushing through his hair, or if their lips would fit together just as well as their bodies.

If Aleks ever decides he wants that, that is. Trevor is willing to wait for him to figure it out, and if he doesn’t, Trevor’s hands have already learnt through time how to be his friend.

“Better head inside,” Aleks says, and his hands move to brush at what Trevor assumes is dust on his shirt. It’s familiar, this being Aleks and his penchant for touch, and Trevor has to stop himself from leaning into it no matter how hard he wants to. Aleks stands, and the seats back here are so close together that Trevor is caught sitting there, staring up through his falling fringe at Aleks in front of him.

The sun is setting, flickering through Aleks’ hair as he exits the van, glancing over his shoulder to see if Trevor’s behind him. Trevor stands, his post-adolescent limbs clumsy and unlike his own as he moves further towards the back of the van, his feet hitting the pavement of the crumbling parking lot as he turns to close the doors behind him. Aleks is standing close-by, giving a simple look, his body language shifting to something Trevor can’t identify, and when he offers his hand forward, Trevor takes it with little hesitation. If Aleks were taller, their shoulders would brush as they walked, their palms already warm against each other and their fingers interwoven. It’s these moments post-heist that Trevor enjoys most, where they’re all too exhausted to care and the adrenaline they once felt has worn off enough to leave their joints aching.

No one ever said this was an easy life, or that it was worth it, but Aleks stumbles and nearly takes Trevor with him, and the laughter spilling from their mouths convinces Trevor that it is. He’s been shot before and captured by rival crews, and life isn’t the easiest when you’re wanted as badly as the Fakes are. Except, having the friends he has makes it worth it more than anything else- Aleks, and all his intricacies, make it worth it. He's been a constant in Trevor's life for years now, the very thought of them simply not being anymore is enough to keep Trevor up some nights. People leave and people die, and Aleks is a reckless asshole who would laugh his way through an interrogation if he could.

But, there's the softer side of Aleks that makes Trevor want to bury his face in Aleks’ neck and cling tight and focus on nothing but the pads of Aleks’ hands rubbing warmth into a delicate patch of Trevor's skin. Trevor thinks about it a little too much, how Aleks has jokingly initiated stuff in the past that was always rejected because it made Trevor feel more like a joke. When he thinks about Aleks kissing him and their bodies essentially- _finally-_ magnetised together after all these years, he wants it to be real. Not the butt of a joke for people to laugh at; he wants the privacy of a certain intimacy that only falling in love can harbour.

“Yo, you tired?” Aleks asks, pushing himself gently against Trevor's side. He's tucked there, fitting almost too perfectly, his hand in Trevor's squeezing after he finishes speaking.

“Uh, I guess,” Trevor offers, tightening his grip on the hand in his. “You going to go home?”

“Brett has a couch, right?” Aleks says, intentions clear, and Trevor let's himself get gently pulled through the front door of their warehouse. It's a big enough place for pre and post heists, but no one lives here when they're not planning anything, other than those few weeks before Joe left where he accidentally fell asleep at his desk. Or, when Aleks passes out during the day on the couch and no one has the heart to wake him, Trevor there every time to pluck Aleks’ sunglasses off his face and put his hat on the table beside him.

James usually calls him a lazy shit, Aleks asleep and peaceful and unaware, while Lindsey bats everyone away to let him sleep. Trevor doesn't mind those days, Aleks sleeping metres away with bed hair and his lips slightly parted and Trevor staring too long at him to explain. Mostly, he wishes he was there; with Aleks, or sitting next to him on the couch, or somewhere that wasn't only being able to look and want to touch. Brett gives him a knowing glance, too long and calculated for Trevor to be comfortable with, and he smiles weakly, tearing his eyes off Aleks for long enough to pretend he was researching the alarm system of that bank he was asked to find out about.

The worst days are when Aleks doesn't sleep, his hands rubbing stars into the back of his eyelids as Trevor watches, tries to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest. Aleks catches his gaze and smiles, but it doesn't reach further than the forced upturn of his lips, the signature happy crinkle in the corner of his eyes missing. They all have bad weeks, or months, and it gets easier but people constantly dropping or finding something else remains one of those overhanging fears that they communicate silently to one another.

Aleks took Aron quitting the hardest, James took Joe leaving the hardest, and Trevor finds it hard to look a few desks down to where Anna used to be knowing she'll never be there again. There's no telling who will go next, no telling who will get shot and bleed out in the back of Brett's van, or who will decide this isn't worth it and leave without a warning. Trevor understands why they leave; he'd have to be stupid to not see how this career beats you down to a fragmented version of the good person you used to be. They get tired and beaten up, so sometimes Trevor needs a few days off to lie in bed and let his heart bleed the way it wants so he can get better. Half the time Aleks will show up, to bring Mishka for a visit or to wash the dishes Trevor's left sitting in the sink for the past week.

Trevor doesn't like those days, or the ones where he drives to Aleks’ after his texts aren't returned and Aleks’ hair is fading back to brown, his eyes exhausted under the disguise of sunglasses, wearing the same clothes he was in the last time Trevor saw him. Aleks will say, 'hey, what are you doing here?’ and Trevor will shrug, avoiding eye-contact but his _I miss you_ drawn in his features like an etch-a-sketch; a blank slate, constantly changing but the idea the same.

“Can drive you home, if you want,” Aleks offers, and Trevor takes his attention from where it was transfixed on their reflection in the glass door to Aleks. He's standing as in front of Trevor as he can manage with their hands still holding onto each other's, Aleks’ free hand holding onto his car keys. “Not, like, that far, right? Down the road?”

“Yeah, but you don't have to,” Trevor chokes, eyes flickering to Aleks’ lips before he allows them to drift back up. “Police are probably looking for us, we should stay here for a bit.”

Aleks doesn't argue, but his unease doesn't dissipate the way Trevor expected it to. He's shaking the keys in his hand like he can't stand still, something tense in his shoulders and his jaw, his eyes behind sunglasses very pointedly not meeting Trevor's wandering gaze. It's not new, the dancing around each other awkwardly when they don't want to say goodbye and they don't exactly want to ask the other to stay, either. Trevor's considered it before, tangling his fingers in whatever of Aleks he could grab and pleading him to not leave. They do a lot of things, that just happens to be one of the few they don't; maybe Aleks is as scared as Trevor, which is a soothing yet terrifying thought all in one.

Trevor ignores the wave of dread settling in his belly, his hands at his sides not knowing what to do, and is grateful when Aleks slips his hand away from Trevor's to open the warehouse door for him with a smile. It's fake but genuine enough when it finds Trevor, Aleks’ keys shoved back hazardously into his pocket and his free hand mocking as he motions into the foyer of the warehouse.

“You wanna go inside?” Aleks asks, the inflection reminding Trevor of too many horrible first dates he's had in the past.

He has always wanted them to be more than that, and he had always wanted Aleks to realise he was in love first so Trevor could stop holding everything to himself. If Aleks knew, he would say, because he's that honest type of person that doesn't keep secrets like Trevor, whose mouth is so used to it already. So, maybe Aleks doesn't know, and maybe Trevor is throwing himself to the metaphorical wolves in Aleks when he does stuff like this. Loving Aleks has been easy, like _how could Trevor not?_ and _how could Aleks do all he does and act like it means nothing?_

Trevor wants it real, like bullet wounds or swallowing flames or when someone leaves and he can't help but _feel_ how much it hurts. He wants Aleks, mostly, and he's not sure how to go about doing that; kissing him or reaching for him with nervous hands or walking through the door so they can sleep and pretend nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong, it's just not right, and Trevor's let it go on like that for longer than his heart originally thought he was capable of. Not wrong, or right, but a slight in between that hurts more than Trevor ever thought it would.

“What- what are you doing?” he manages, hands anxious as they meet each other in front of him.

Aleks pauses and the hand holding the door open slips back to his side. His tone confused as the door clicks shut and he whispers, “What?”

“Drive me home,” Trevor says too quick, and swallows the anxiety bundled in his throat so he can breathe steady again. “I changed my mind, drive me home.”

There's a second where Trevor regrets it, and his heart beats so loud it would drown out the words Aleks isn't saying. They dance around each other, tiptoe about the truth, and maybe Trevor has broken every rule they never set in place but he can't take it back. Instead, he'll hold onto it and push, make Aleks drive him home because he offered and Trevor said yes and he wants _this_. It's been so long, too long, and if he doesn't do this now he might never have another chance to. Not with their line of work or their own cowardice of ignoring what's between them- platonic or not.

Aleks nods, the glass door shut behind him, and he jingles his keys in his hand again. A nervous tic, or because they've been standing here for a few minutes and he has trouble keeping still, or because Trevor asked him to drive him home. He asked him to come over, and neither of them have done that before; they go over unannounced when the other needs it, not out of the blue or after a heist like this. It almost seems too personal, the knowing they've been through hell today so they're tired and bruised and don't want to be alone.

Different, that's how it feels. Different… to everything.

From the day Trevor met Aleks, he was ready to give his whole life up for these misfits; to spend whatever time he had at their sides. That will always be the same- he can't see it ever changing- but he didn't know this would happen, the Aleks thing, despite how right and fitting it is.

It blindsided him a little, admittedly, and for all the times he has tried to ignore it, there have also been times where he found it unbearably impossible to push down and disregard completely. Part of him will love Aleks forever, through life and through death, and it's terrifying but it's not unwelcome. Trevor has never made a conscious effort to not fall in love for what it's worth, but he's never made too much of a conscious effort to fall in love, either. Maybe that's why falling for Aleks made him react the way he did, all shaking hands and scraped knees and bloodied hands in the back of the van, nothing but concern and love for Aleks.

So, that took him by surprise. Aleks injured but smiling weakly, Trevor in front of him with Joe before he left trying to keep himself together. To ignore the hollowed out sensation in his stomach, the way his hands couldn't keep still because Aleks was hurt, he was wounded, and Trevor wouldn't know what to do if… He wasn't able to finish the thought, his body leaning forward to press his forehead to Aleks’ shoulder, one of Aleks’ hands stained red and shaking grabbing at the back of Trevor's shirt, half desperate half to keep Trevor from being thrown about the vehicle.

Love works in mysterious ways, truly revealing itself in situations where the almost worst has almost happened. Aleks shot but okay, Brett driving fast but careful, Joe's smile not reaching his eyes when he tried to say it'd be okay, James’ broken voice on the other end of the phone asking Asher what had happened, and Trevor holding onto Aleks worried about letting go. Love doesn't always listen, but Trevor could never really find it in himself to be mad about it, not with how simply it fit into what he knew about Aleks. Stranger, friend, co-worker, the boy Trevor loves.

Some things just work, this happens to be one of those things. Even if Trevor is exhausted from the pining, the keeping it to himself, the longing gazes that Brett has caught so many times. Trevor and Aleks work, they have since they met- them is them, an enigma Trevor has known but not known for years now. They'll get there eventually, hopefully. He'll hold onto hope of that.

For now, though, he'll follow Aleks to his car and ignore the look pressed on the other's face, and buckle up his seatbelt like he wasn't getting shot at by cops less than thirty minutes ago. Aleks shifts to stare at him, knuckles white on the top of the steering wheel before he clears his throat and starts driving, letting the silence stew uncomfortably between them. It's the anxiety swirling terribly in Trevor's lower stomach that has him turning on the radio to search for something, instead met with nothing interesting enough to bother with.

His place really isn't that far from the warehouse, Aleks getting mostly green lights before he slides easily into park outside Trevor's apartment block. It's Los Santos so it's nice but it's shitty enough that no one will want to know where he gets the money for it from; he's modest with his money and how much he spends, and he's okay with it being like that. Lindsey likes cheap wine and expensive clothes, James likes cheap clothes and expensive wine, Brett likes a decent middle ground, and Aleks’ tastes change so dramatically so quickly than the one thing Trevor is sure of is how much he's willing to spend on cars and apartments. Granted, he's been in this game a lot longer than Trevor, but still-

Trevor lives modestly, keeps his money tucked away for when he finally decided to get out of here. He'll have enough for a ticket to anywhere with what little possessions he has, and he hasn't exactly told the crew yet that he plans to so he keeps it secret. It's a hidden dream, one of living well on a beach somewhere or on a farm or a town where it snows so much it gets stuck on all his clothes, in all his dark hair. One of these days, he'll make that move and he'll stop staring at real estate on his phone before a heist, tucking his phone into his pocket and hoping he's still alive in an hour to revisit the tabs he kept open.

He misses the simplicity of knowing he'd die old, and not in the back of a van after a heist with his friends coated in his blood. It's happened before, only once but still one too many; every day he's glad he wasn't there, except for the times he remembers Aleks’ empty eyes and the blood in his hair and Trevor gets scared. Scared, as if it's simple to describe the fear and dread of dying in your friend's arms and leaving them with the ability to recall your last moments. He has to get out of here before he suffocates under all it, in a way that he knows he's living off borrowed time and he's lucky he hasn't run out by now.

Aleks takes off his sunglasses and drops them beside him into a cup holder, dragging Trevor's attention and eyes to one of the few reasons he stays. Aleks, with his fading blonde hair and pale face and dirty shirt, his car keys removed a bit forcefully from the ignition and clashing together in his hand before he drops them into his lap.

“What are we doing?” Aleks says, laughing false as he runs his hair through his hair.

Trevor stills, everything he's wanted to say kept hidden on the tip of his tongue. He barely manages to say, “What?” before Aleks cuts him off.

“Brett told me what you said,” he breathes, closes his eyes against the sun coming gently through his car window. “About, like, everything, I guess. I'm not surprised, dude, I just- can't believe you didn't tell me. After all this time, I had to find out from Brett.”

“What are you saying?” Trevor asks, confusion dripping from his words as he moves in his seat slightly to angle his body more towards Aleks. “What about Brett?”

“I don't fucking know, man,” Aleks says, pained, his loud inhale too shaky for it to be normal. “I'm trying to start a conversation, since you weren't going to. About this, and about us, and Brett said I should talk to you before I got the wrong idea about this so that's what I'm doing, while making myself look like an idiot. As per usual. Just- I like you, and you don't have to like me back, but I'm not an asshole, Trevor. You don't have to-”

“Dude, I have no clue what you're talking about, man.”

Aleks sighs, moving to unlock Trevor's door like an invitation for him to leave. Trevor flinches, but he doesn't move when Aleks finally explains, “If you want to leave, that's fine. But I don't want you to leave because you know I like you and you don't like me. We're friends before we're coworkers, and I knew it was a dumb idea to tell Brett what I did because he's an asshole who likes telling other people's secrets. But, I want you to stay. If that helps your decision. And I don't… I don't want you to leave all of this and all of them 'cause of me.”

Trevor can't breathe, one of his hands gripping at the fabric of the car seat, his other reaching to settle warm against Aleks’ shoulder. Aleks has his eyes closed, his face illuminated by the sun where he's resting his head against the car door, and his body relaxes when he feels Trevor's touch.

“I'm not done,” Trevor reassures, ignores Aleks’ nose scrunch up as though he's upset. “And Brett didn't tell me anything, about you or liking me. _I_ told Brett that I like you, he didn't say anything about you liking me back or… anything, Aleks, I swear.”

“He's a bitch,” Aleks says, after two seconds that last longer than any Trevor has ever experienced. They laugh, soft and for no one but each other, and when Aleks turns to look at him with unsure eyes open, hair tossed about endearingly, Trevor feels a huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

All those times Trevor would hear a car park outside his place and wonder- hope- it was Aleks coming to tell him he loved him. Those nights with bad dreams and sleepless until morning light when he'd hear a car brake below his apartment and imagine how he'd talk to Aleks and hold him when Aleks knocked on his door, confessed how he felt like one of those stupid movies Lindsey made them all watch. It's ridiculous to think about, but Trevor thinks about it every night- sometimes too much- and this isn't Aleks coming to his place after a few drinks, but Trevor will take this. Sober, post-heist Aleks is softer, more confused and torn than the Aleks from all of Trevor's half-baked 2am fantasies, but he'll take him in a heartbeat.

Trevor will take Aleks, in every shape or form, because he's taken the last few years to fall in love with the versions of him that exist to others and to just himself, and Trevor loves them all the same. He loves Aleks, a lot. Like, so much he can feel his hand hot on Aleks’ shoulder falling to Aleks’ bicep, Aleks’ eyes curious but tired as he watches.

“What are we doing?” Aleks asks again, his attention dropping for a split second from Trevor's eyes to his lips.

“What do you want to be doing?” Trevor says, and his heart thuds steadily back to life in his chest.

“Dunno,” Aleks admits. “Something with you.”

Trevor nods, like it takes so much effort that he thinks it's an acceptable excuse for how long his hand has been burning heat around the skin of Aleks’ arm. Some things are easier to think about, to dream about, than they are to do; confessing, sitting here with Aleks, is one of those things. His hand on Aleks’ bicep, warm and comfortable and unwilling to move just yet, also happens to be one of those things.

It's late afternoon, nearing sunset and dinner time, and Trevor's usually passed out in bed by night this soon after a heist. He lies in bed and ignores his phone for at least twelve hours, and thinks in great detail about all the places in his body he could've been shot, and all the places in his friend's bodies they could've been shot. It's rough, it's awful to think about, but it's hard to ignore even on the best of days. He's never been too good at that, like he's never been too good at handling situations like this, with Aleks. He can try, and he will, though it doesn't exactly mean he'll be any good at it.

“Come with me?” Trevor says, means up to his apartment and everywhere, just in general.

Aleks knows, he must, because his gaze is wounded but fond, his hand reaching the small distance to open his door. Trevor's hand slides back to his own lap before he follows, turning to the unlocked passenger side door at his right. Aleks beats him to opening it, his smile tucked into one corner of his mouth, his car keys clicking together in the hand not on Trevor's door. So, Trevor doesn't know what to do- he steps out of the car and his posture hates him, his natural slouch and weight shifted to one leg leaves Aleks seeming not too much shorter. He's not, really, but sometimes Trevor would like to be the smaller one, not just the youngest.

“Y'alright?” Aleks asks, the door shutting behind Trevor as he leans against the car. It's warm from the sun, and his cheeks are warm under Aleks’ gaze. “We don't have to, dude, I can just drop-”

“Come upstairs? To my place?”

It's not like they've never been up there together before, when they were only friends and there were less things for them to talk about. Only things like the flu and the weather and dogs and heists, not them liking each other and whatever Brett thought he was doing when he said what he said to Aleks. Trevor's nervous, but there's something comfortable about knowing it's Aleks, one of his best friends, and things between them don't have to change if they don't want them to.

Trevor wants them to, he has for longer than he thinks he can ever be sure of, except none of that means anything if Aleks would rather not. It would be so easy- _too_ easy- for him to decide he only wants to be friends to preserve what they already have, to break Trevor's heart in ways he figured would happen eventually. Just because he's thought about it doesn't mean he wants it; he wants Aleks, he wants that and this and them, and for his longstanding feelings to finally be returned. That's what he wants, so much so that he doesn't know how he's supposed to put it into words.

Aleks says, “Yeah,” like it's so simple, and they walk in silence up the stairs in Trevor's building to his apartment. Aleks lingers close, naturally protectively so like he always is, and when they finally reach Trevor's door, he grabs at the elbow of Trevor's shirt. It's enough to pause Trevor where he is, still reaching for the keys in his pocket to unlock his door and let Aleks in, when Aleks says his name, half whispered in his ear and nicer than it has any right being.

“Do you want me to go?”

Trevor freezes, his fingers tense around his key half-raised to the keyhole in his door. He stumbles so much on his words his jaw aches, his body slowly finding itself as it temporarily ignores Aleks and unlocks the door. He pushes it open with his foot, walking forward with Aleks’ fingers continuing to pinch his shirt as they walk in gentle unison.

“Why would I want you to leave?”

“I'm trying to talk to you as your friend,” Aleks sighs, his hand pulling on Trevor's shirt enough to make him turn to look at him.

“Uh, and I'm trying to get you up here so I can kiss you but you're kinda being an idiot,” Trevor swallows, the amused eyebrow Aleks raised worth it. “So, shut up, maybe? Dude?”

Aleks doesn't reply, instead the hand he raises after loosening it off Trevor's shirt sleeve is cold but warming, soft, barely parted fingers tickling the edges of Trevor's sideburns. It doesn't rest there for long, slowly sliding back to Trevor's arm, his fingers curled just before Trevor's wrist. It's different, in ways Aleks joking almost kisses and fake affection aren't; it's surprising, has Trevor staring for too long too afraid to make a move despite knowing he should. If he could lean forward, take his eyes off Aleks’ features for moments enough to kiss him like he said he wanted to and like he wants to… he doesn't know what will happen, but he'll trust that it'll be good.

Aleks is older up close, in ways Trevor hasn't noticed after all these years. He's still young, halfway through his twenties to thirty if Trevor remembers correctly, and despite it having been years and years since when they first met, he really hasn't aged that much at all. A little, obviously, but other than the blonde dye fading from his hair, he's the same. Taller, more bruised and tossed about in police holding cells, yet somehow the same. Something about it makes Trevor wonder how long it's been since Aleks fell in love with how, and if Trevor can begin to pinpoint the exact age Aleks was when Trevor fell for him.

It's a little impossible, admittedly. Even as Trevor leans forward to meet Aleks halfway, the dry Los Santos heat easy to ignore for the moment. A breeze flickers the back of Trevor's hair, as well as a hand Aleks moves to rest at the back of his head, perfectly titled lips and warm hands, and bodies that can't get close enough for their liking. It's only a kiss, but it makes Trevor's heart beat fast all the same, and has him melting against Aleks as they stumble back a little against the apartment door.

Aleks hums into the kiss, his jacket sliding off one shoulder, and he shifts his face away, a small distance building between their lips. Trevor takes the opportunity to breathe, to think about sleeping together in the most innocent way because they don't have work tomorrow and they could spend these hours just them if they wanted to.

“Should I, uh, go?” Aleks breathes, his lips brushing Trevor's and his hand somehow more noticeably curled in the front of Trevor's shirt, holding his close.

“Stay,” Trevor manages. “You should stay. If you want to.”

“For the night?” Aleks asks, accepting with another soft hum as Trevor moves to kiss his again. It's gentle, nothing more than the press of lips, a confirmation said in actions rather than words that Trevor can't bring himself to say. Say yet- can't bring himself to say _yet_. He will, eventually, just not right now; when it's not so new, when they've had the time to figure out exactly what this is and give it a name deserving of how they feel. Then, Trevor will say it. All he needs is some time.

“I'll stay,” Aleks confirms, ducking his head with a bright smile and reddened cheeks to press his forehead to Trevor's collarbone. “Tell me if I overstay my welcome?”

Trevor presses a kiss into the mess of Aleks’ hair, closing his eyes to enjoy the moment they've been given. Being with Aleks feels like touching the sun, hot and warm and blinding and accomplished, and Trevor wants it for all the time Aleks is willing to give him. To give _them_. It isn't like swallowing flames or throwing himself to the fake masses, though it is terrifying, because what the future holds is blind to both of them. They don't know what'll happen, no one will, and Trevor doesn't say anything but Aleks gets closes, his face pressed warm to the crook of Trevor's neck.

“Are we good?” he mumbles, words buzzing against Trevor's skin.

“Yeah, we're… we're definitely good,” Trevor replies, and let's Aleks move away and guide him to the bedroom he's familiar with. After years of visiting Trevor and looking after him, and it's nice in a way that he can get used to other things with Trevor; new things, like kissing and sleeping together literally and maybe non literally. All in due time, really-

Things will happen as they happen, and Trevor will never stop thinking about this. About him and Aleks, and discarded shoes and the warmth of sheets on an unmade bed, and how long it's taken but how worth it is to have Aleks asleep against him. Half asleep, because he moves slightly in his sleep and whispers, “Trev?” and Trevor can do nothing but smile in response.

**Author's Note:**

>  ♡.


End file.
